


the wyvern's nest café

by fthh



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24494248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fthh/pseuds/fthh
Summary: “Come on, Bern, if you don’t do it, how else are you supposed to know?”“Um, you could ask her for me? Does she even like girls?”or, bernadetta has a crush on the redheaded barista at the wyvern's nest café.
Relationships: Leonie Pinelli/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	the wyvern's nest café

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marble_Ocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marble_Ocean/gifts).



> [@sapphic_plant](https://twitter.com/sapphic_plant) said "bernadetta trying to flirt with leonie" earlier this evening and i was like hell yeah! i think i got a little out of topic, rip

Bernadetta immediately takes notice of the redheaded barista, of course. How could she not? The barista always puts her name down as “Bernadetta :)” — sometimes with a heart, but always, always with a smiley face.

It also helps that the barista grins at her with a brilliance that rivals that of the sun.

(It’s on the third visit that Bernadetta takes a peek at the redheaded barista’s name tag. Her name is very messily scrawled across her chest: Leonie.)

“I’m Leonie,” the barista (Leonie, Leonie, Leonie, Bernadetta practices in her head) says, pointing to her name tag. Bernadetta didn’t even realise she’d asked for her name, but she’ll be thankful for her momentary lapse in timidity later. For now— “Bernadetta, right?” Leonie asks with a smile.

Bernadetta doesn’t know why she’s asking — she obviously knows. This is probably the ninth time she’s visited this month. Of course she knows—

“People I like call me Bernie,” she finds herself blurting out, unthinking. Why is she talking? Why is she talking? More to the point, why hasn’t she stopped talking? “You can call me Bernie. If you want.”

Leonie is obviously startled, but the bright grin on her face doesn’t falter one iota. Bernadetta’s heart does an intricate little dance to a rhythm she doesn’t want to understand quite yet.

Leonie strikes out the name she’s written on the cup, and scrawls another one below it. “That’ll be four dollars,” she says.

Later, in Leonie’s messy handwriting, the cup reads: “Bernie ❤”

.

“Hey, Bern,” Dorothea greets. “Finally back from that café, huh?”

“How— how did you know?”

Dorothea gestures vaguely at the coffee cup in her hand. “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

“It’s— uh— see you, Dorothea?”

Bernadetta locks herself in her room until she’s certain Dorothea’s left for her class at eleven the next day.

.

Bernadetta blames all of this on her carelessness, and she curses herself inwardly as the situation unfolds.

It started at one-thirty, when:

  1. Bernadetta looks at her watch— her next lecture starts in thirty minutes. She packs her things to go— almost forgets her notebook, takes it with her.
  2. Is on her merry way to class. She thinks about what kind of coffee she should get later. According to her very _scientific_ observations (she dreads to think what Linhardt would say about her word choice here) Leonie’s shift should start at six later.
  3. She doesn’t realise a stray piece of paper flying over to Dorothea.
  4. Dorothea calls out to her, holds up the rough sketch and small doodle of Leonie. Hopes Dorothea doesn’t recognise her.
  5. “Hey, I recognise her!”
  6. Bernadetta dies inside.
  7. “That’s Claude’s friend, isn’t it? She’s that barista girl at that café near the library. Oh, Bern, why didn’t you tell me? How long have you been dating?”
  8. Bernadetta dies a little more.
  9. “Actually, um… I haven’t got her number yet.”
  10. “Why don’t _you_ give _her_ your number?” (There’s something about Dorothea’s tone there. She’s not a child anymore, but she lets it slide this time because she loves her roommate.)
  11. “I didn’t… think about that…” (And yeah, that, too. Dorothea is so smart when it comes to this.)
  12. “So, hey, I’ll ask Claude for details about her and next time you go there you can give her your number? Or, you know, ask her out?”
  13. Bernadetta takes a few moments to think it over. “Actually, I’m going to study there later tonight. Do you— do you mind coming with me?”
  14. “Yes, of course, Bernie! Anything for you!”



So yes, Bernadetta blames her own carelessness for this whole mess she’s in.

.

“Come on, Bern, if you don’t do it, how else are you supposed to know?”

“Um, you could ask her for me? Does she even like girls?”

Bernadetta scribbles all over her napkin, letting out her nervous energy. The napkin is very absorbent, so her ink ends up in messy lines, large blobs, the ink travelling in the large channels between the fibres. She throws it away and reaches for a new one.

“Bernie, we already know she does. Claude said so.”

“How do we know Claude isn’t lying?”

More scribbling. More muddled blotches on her napkin.

“You know Claude wouldn’t lie about things like this. Besides, Hilda trusts him, and I trust her… to a point.”

Bernadetta’s grip slides and she gets ink on her hands. When she reaches over, Dorothea snatches the napkins away.

“Uh-uh,” she tuts. “These are mine. Go ask for your own.”

Bernadetta pouts, putting on her best puppy-dog face.

“In other circumstances that would work perfectly on me,” Dorothea extends a hand to pinch her friend’s cheek, “but not today. I’ll be right here if anything goes wrong.” Then she bargains, “We can go for ice-cream after.”

Bernadetta sighs in defeat. She walks up to the counter and flags down Leonie.

“What can I get ya?” Leonie asks, her grin as bright as it always is. Bernadetta almost faints.

“Can I— uh,” Bernadetta lifts her hands to show her messy palms, a royal purple that almost matches the colour of her hair.

“Napkins, huh? Here you go,” Leonie hands over a hefty stack. Bernadetta has a feeling that it’s probably a little too much considering she’s just cleaning her hands, but, well… she’s not going to question a gift horse in the mouth, or however the idiom goes. Her brain is too frazzled right now. “Say, did I see you using a fountain pen? That’s cool!”

“Um— yes! I like to write.” Bernadetta winces at her attempt at talking. When she looks backwards, Dorothea is watching her with rapt attention, urging her on with just a look. When she turns her attention back to Leonie, she’s lost any nerve she had earlier. “Thank you for the napkins — I should, uh.” She points in Dorothea’s general direction.

(Bernadetta thinks it’s wishful thinking, but) Leonie’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, then. “Your girlfriend? Of course, sorry to keep you.”

“She’s— she’s not! My girlfriend, that is.”

Bernadetta runs to Dorothea, absolutely panicking by now. “Help me!” She says in a high-pitched squeak.

“Why’d you run away from her?” Dorothea asks, incredulous. “Bernie, go back to her!”

“But what do I say?!”

“You could ask her when she gets off her shift, maybe?”

(Bernadetta knows this already, of course. She’s a very keen observer. But she’s not going to let Dorothea know that.)

“Um— uh…” Bernadetta reaches for her pen, scribbles her number down. It’s a mess or unintelligible shapes now, of course. In a hurry, she reaches for Dorothea’s gel pen. She tries again.

She passes the napkin to Leonie and zooms out of the café with her favourite pen in tow. Dorothea is left to scramble with their things and run after her. She’d be angry, honestly, if Bernadetta wasn’t currently double over just outside, clutching her chest, almost bursting into tears.

.

Bernadetta’s phone screen is staring back at her, mocking, unflinching:  _ Hi! Barista Leonie here! Bernie, right? _

Bernadetta saves the number, and texts back after a few minutes of more staring.

_ Yes, that’s right :^) _

The conversation dies there.

By some stroke of luck, Bernadetta starts seeing Leonie in Hanneman’s class. They wave at each other. That’s a step, at least, Bernadetta thinks.

.

Bernadetta won’t admit it, but she’s been avoiding the café lately.

… But she has mid-semester deadlines, now, and she’s out of coffee which is why she’s not at her usual spot at the café sipping on her regular order of a regular americano. (Okay, she  _ could _ go to the supermarket to buy more, and that would have been easier than to face her — she shudders to even be  _ thinking _ this — crush, and she does not want to delve into the psychology of it all.)

Leonie waves at her from behind the counter, and a few moments pass between them before Bernadetta feels her phone vibrate in her breast pocket.

**Leonie🦁✨☕: My shift is over in 5 minutes. Do you want to stay and chat?**

Stay and chat… stay and chat…

Is that a normal thing to say? Bernadetta is about to pack her things and leave when Dorothea’s voice in her head interrupts her: “Come on, Bernie! If you don’t do anything you won’t ever find out her favourite colour,” and other things she’d rattled off earlier this week.

She shoots back a simple  _ Sure! _

Leonie’s favourite colour is yellow. She likes sunflowers. She was into painting, once, but sports took over her more creative endeavours. She’s the vice-captain of the university’s sky polo team.

“You know, I started to go to Hanneman’s class so I could see you,” Leonie admits quietly. “I’m not a good texter. I prefer talking in person.”

“Oh… you’re cute,” Bernadetta says reverently. She immediately clamps a hand over her lips as once she realises what she’s said.

Leonie looks away, and her skin burns red from the tips of her ears to the bottom of her neck. “Uh… people don’t usually say I’m cute…”

“You are!” Bernadetta insists. She’s never seen Leonie this way: flustered, at a loss for words. The Leonie she’s seen so far is always quick on her feet, ready at all times with a quip of her own.

“Thanks.” Leonie smiles sheepishly. She inhales, exhales, inhales, exhales, a few times, and squares her shoulders. “Would you like to come to sky polo practice sometime? It’s usually closed, but… um… it would be nice to see a pretty face in the stands.”

Let it be known that Bernadetta hasn’t the first clue about the sport, only that apparently (from a quick and cursory Fóogling) that the Garreg Mach team is very famous around Fódlan. “Yes!” She says cheerily. “Sure! I mean, if you wanted.”

“I do. Want that.”

“Come on, you two! Bern, just ask her out already.” Bernadetta jumps at the sound of Dorothea’s voice.

“What in the hell?!”

Dorothea doesn’t flinch one bit. “You did not answer my text, by the way. I thought I’d find you here. We’re late for study group with Edie.” She turns to Leonie. “Hey, Golden Deer Girl. Nice to meet you.”

Leonie only waves at her.

“Yes, well, um, Leonie. I should get going now.” Bernadetta picks up her bag as well as her coffee cup.

She leaves with a promise of more and, when Dorothea looks away, a light kiss on Leonie’s cheek to seal the deal.

.

**Leonie🦁✨☕: I can’t wait for Friday night :) I like cooking for my dates**

**Leonie🦁✨☕: Wait**

**Leonie🦁✨☕: it** **_is_ ** **a date, isn’t it?**

**Bernie✒☕🌻: Yes, it’s a date :)**

**Bernie✒☕🌻: 💞**

**Author's Note:**

> part of a modern au i'm trying to flesh out, which i swear i will get to writing
> 
> [x](https://twitter.com/clonebutt)


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